Hearts and Flours
by owlcroft
Summary: It's almost Valentine's Day and the guys are thinking about their special ladies.


HEARTS AND FLOURS

by

Owlcroft

"Hey, where ya been? The movie started fifteen minutes ago." McCormick took another large handful of popcorn, then pushed the bowl across the coffee table toward the wing chair a trifle.

Hardcastle dropped into his chair, shaking his head. "Not like I haven't seen it before. The first part's a little slow, anyway."

"Yeah, all that plot development can get kinda boring, huh?" said Mark dryly. "So what were you doing? I called you three times."

"Ah," the judge flapped a hand in the air dismissively, "I was on the phone with my aunts in Arkansas. Once they start yakking, it's impossible to stop 'em. I gotta hear all the news about my cousins, and the guy down the road, and what Ben Sigerson said last week." Hardcastle sighed, stretched out a hand for the remote, then growled when it was whisked out of reach.

McCormick grinned at him impishly. "You get here late, you lose privileges." Seeing the other man's eyebrows lower even more, and hearing the growl increase in volume, he added, "But I'll trade it for how come I didn't get to meet your aunts when we were in Clarence. No, come on," he overrode the other man's demands to have the volume raised. "You didn't even tell me you had any family back there. Why not?"

The judge leaned back in his chair, huffing a little in resignation, eyes on the gritty little western town on the television screen. "They don't live in Clarence itself. They live in a town named Worden a little ways to the west. And they weren't there for all the hoo-ha because they'd won a baking contest and the prize was a cruise and they were on it, okay? Now turn it up, the bad guy's just about to make his move here."

Mark shook his head. "Not yet. You probably have all the dialogue memorized anyway. So, why'd you have to call them right _now_? At, what . . . nine o'clock their time."

"Because I forgot before and I need them to do me a favor tomorrow so it'll be in time for Valentine's Day. Now gimme that remote!"

"Valentine's Day, huh?" McCormick eyed Hardcastle with a playful leer, then tossed him the remote. "Who's the lucky lady and what're you sending her?" He snapped his fingers with sudden inspiration. "It's Aggie, right? But . . ." he paused in thought, "what would you be sending her from Arkansas?"

Hardcastle heaved an exasperated sigh and put the remote down on the coffee table in front of him. "If you hafta know, it's flour, _okay_? A ten-pound bag of White Lily flour and they don't sell it out here so I hadda ask my aunts to do it for me." He finished in a near-shout, "Now can we please watch the damn movie?"

"You've got the remote; you turn the sound up." Mark gestured at the television. "Why that flour, though? What's so special about it?"

The volume rose to a near-normal level. "'Cause you can't make good biscuits with any other kind of flour." The judge settled back as the lawman started his explanation to the saloon-keeper. "Least that's what folks who grew up in the South think. Aggie and I got to talking about biscuits while we were down there in San Rio and I figured she'd probably appreciate the flour instead of a bunch of flowers, see?"

McCormick nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right about that, but I mighta made it a bottle of fancy rum instead. Remember that San Rio colada?" He shook his head and chuckled. "I wish I'd had a camera when you saw that thing."

"Listen, wise guy, I noticed you sneaking out to the mailbox with something in a red envelope." Hardcastle glanced away from the poker game on the screen momentarily. "I'm betting you sent a little hearts and cupids card to somebody special, am I right?"

"Ah, no. Not really." Mark leaned back on the couch and put his feet on the end of the coffee table. "Not exactly hearts and cupids. More like how-ya-been, have-a-nice-day, hope-to-see-you-soon kinda stuff."

An enthusiastic fistfight took their attention briefly. Then the judge spoke again. "No hearts, huh?" He pondered that then guessed, "The little cutie _you _met in San Rio?"

"Huh-uh," was the terse response. McCormick's attention seemed to be riveted on the ad for used cars now displayed on the screen.

Hardcastle grunted. "One of the teeny bikinis you're always scouting on the beach?"

A shake of the head was the only answer.

"Aw, c'mon. I told you about the flour." The judge reached for the remote and thumbed the volume off completely. "I'm not gonna sit here and _guess _all day." He studied the lanky form on the couch, then wheedled, "You know you're gonna be making remarks about Valentine biscuits for the next month. C'mon, who is she?"

Mark sighed, then slouched down even further as the sheriff started an intense conversation with the schoolmarm. "Sarah," he muttered with a goaded look at the insistent figure to his right.

"Sarah? Sarah." Hardcastle put a hand on his chest. "_My _Sarah?"

"Yeah, _your _Sarah, okay?" Mark closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to the sight of horses pounding off in a cloud of dust. "I sent her a card just to let her know I was thinking about her. Is that all right with you, Hardcase?"

The judge shrugged, then cocked his head. "Yeah, sure, it's okay, but now I'm gonna look bad 'cause I didn't send her anything."

McCormick snorted. "It's not too late to send her flowers, y'know. Or a box of candy."

"Yeah, I oughta do something like that. Maybe a nice potted plant." Hardcastle mulled over his possibilities as the deputy set off in pursuit of the rustlers.

"Hey, no!" McCormick snapped his fingers. "Get your aunts to send her some of that flour! You know how she's always baking stuff, right?"

Hardcastle nodded slowly. "That's not a bad thought at all. I can call 'em up tomorrow and have 'em send it straight to her in Frisco. Yeah, that's the ticket. Good idea, kiddo." He nodded again, decisively, as the bad guys scattered for cover.

"_I_ thought so," said Mark modestly, burnishing his nails on his t-shirt.

"Yeah, it shows that kinda personal touch, see. _ And,_" added the judge slyly, "then you won't be able to make any biscuit jokes."

McCormick leaned forward and reached for the remote. "Wanna bet?" He grinned as he turned up the volume just in time for the shoot-out at the old barn. "And you know every woman appreciates a flour for Valentine's."

_finis_


End file.
